


Get Back Home

by aravenwood



Series: Whumptober 2020 [11]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Dehydration, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt Malcolm Bright, Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright Whump, Stranded, Whumptober 2020, heat exhaustion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood
Summary: Malcolm wakes up in the middle of nowhere with his hands tied behind his back and the sun beating down on him. It's not long before the heat starts to take effect.Written for the Whumptober 2020 prompt "heat exhaustion".
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Series: Whumptober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947343
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Get Back Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So I finally started watching this show at the start of the week. It is now Wednesday and I am 11 episodes in. This is such a great show and the whump is just...*dreamy sigh*. And so many great fics! I couldn't resist trying this fandom out for myself! 
> 
> The characters might be a little OOC, I'm not sure I've entirely gotten a handle on how they speak and act yet. But I'm getting there I think, and I have 9 more episodes to learn that.
> 
> Please enjoy!

If there’s one thing Malcolm hates most in the world, it’s the feeling of helplessness.

Well, maybe that’s not at the top of the list. After all, brussels sprouts exist and nothing can be worse. So maybe helplessness is number two…

But helpless is the only way to describe how he’s currently feeling. It’s been hours since he woke up in a bush in the middle of nowhere with his hands tied behind his back and a dirty rag stuffed in his mouth. The rag is gone now, spat into the dirt after a lot of twisting and shaking of his head, but the ropes around his wrists are still there and seemingly growing tighter by the hour. Tugging on them seems to do nothing except tighten them, and it’s gotten so bad that his hands are slick with blood from open wounds beneath the ropes.

None of that would be so bad if it wasn’t so damn hot. It’s the peak of summer and an uncomfortably hot day. On a regular day, in which his hands would not be restrained nearly as roughly, he’d have his jacket off by now. Maybe he’d even have his tie off too, or at least loosened to allow himself a little more air in his lungs. But he can’t do that now, and he’s sweating so badly that he’s nauseous from the bitter smell of it on his clothes.

Why does it have to be so hot? Why can’t he be knocked out and left to die in the winter? He’ll take anything but this, anything at all.

“No, if it was winter then you would be hypothermic instead of heat exhausted,” says Hallucination-Dr Le Deux, sounding far too calm for the current situation. But then, she’s not the one rapidly dehydrating in the stifling heat - she has room to be optimistic.

But he’s…well to be honest, he’s struggling to grasp what’s real and what isn’t. Several miles back he was sure he saw a town in the distance - the hazy outlines of buildings interrupting the endless dirt and dust. Upon seeing them he’d almost cried from the relief and forced himself to move faster, to use the reserves of his energy to push onwards.

It’s been hours since he saw them, and they’ve long since disappeared.

His father has come and gone, sticking around long enough to explain the symptoms of heat exhaustion and warning him of the consequences - as if Malcolm hadn’t known this already, hadn’t known how that he was at a real risk of dying if he didn’t find food or shelter.

He’s had a headache for miles, worsening as his sweating uses up the last of the water in his body. His vision is blurry at best, the world nothing but blurs and swirls. Not that there’s much to see right now, with the miles and miles of nothingness all around him.

But he’d at least like the option to admire it.

The only thing keeping him sane - well, sane-ish - is the face he’s trying so hard to keep in his memory. A tall man, young, blond hair cut to just below his ears. Blue eyes so bright that looking into them is like being studied. A scar over the bridge of his nose.

This is the man who did it. This is the man who grabbed him.

Gil will be proud of him for remembering. If Malcolm can get back to him before his body decides to give in.

He has to keep going. Has to keep walking, even though his legs are shaking and his everything is shaking and all he wants to do is curl up in the dirt until someone finds him. But he can’t do that because no one knows where he is and even if they did, this place is so big and empty that they’ll never be able to pick up his exact location.

So he has to save himself.

Hallucination-Dr Le Deux walks next to him for another while, but eventually she too gets bored and leaves him alone. The sun starts to set, finally, and he wants to enjoy the rapidly cooling air but he can’t because it’s not cool enough and there’s no sign of anything to drink. But at least he doesn’t feel like he’s suffocating anymore.

Not from the heat anyway. The tightness in his chest is another issue altogether, one he doesn’t even have the energy to deal with right now.

Instead of thinking, he keeps walking.

-

“Bright! Malcolm!”

He’s hallucinating again. Auditory this time - it’s nice to have something new and stimulating. It sounds like Gil, he thinks, but that’s not right because Gil isn’t here. Gil is back in the city with Dani and JT, searching for him in creepy basements and abandoned warehouses where kidnappers normally keep their victims - hey, maybe they should compile a list of warehouses and basements in the city, that’ll certainly narrow it down the next time they have a kidnapper at large.

That’s a smart idea. He’ll need to bring that up when he sees Gil next. Or JT. JT will like that, he’ll be proud that Malcolm is thinking like a detective and maybe he’ll finally stop being so distant.

“Malcolm!”

And hey, that’s JT too. He’s hallucinating multiple people at once? That’s new. He wonders if Dani will-.

“Hey Bright, you out here?”

There she is. He can’t help the dorky grin that forms on his face. He likes Dani, she’s pretty and funny and caring, and she wants to protect the city and its people because it’s her home and no one fucks with her people. He respects that a lot, it’s one of his favourite qualities of hers. That and her smile. He’s glad that he’s hallucinating her, it’s nice.

What’s even nicer is that he smells less too, feels less disgustingly moist under his shirt. His skin is actually dry now, a welcome relief from the thick layer of sweat which has been soaking him all day.

His father keeps saying that it’s bad but how can it be bad when it feels so nice?

“Bright, can you hear me?”

JT’s voice is louder now. Not really loud but enough that Malcolm finds himself looking over his shoulder despite knowing full well it’s a hallucination.

That’s when he notices several figures in the distance, and beams of light sweeping over the dirt. They’re so far away and he can’t make them out properly, but he’s sure that they’re there. Or he’s just hallucinating again.

He turns his head to face forwards again but is overcome with a wave of such intense dizziness that he stumbles and falls to his knees. The dirt is cool under his hands. And so soft. So, so soft. He smiles weakly and bows his head forwards, pressing his forehead against it.

When did he get this tired?

Ok, he’s allowed a break. Just a quick one. Just for a few minutes…

-

“I’ve found him! Guys over here, it’s him!”

Malcolm groans and buries his head in the dirt. So loud. Too loud. Stupid hallucinations.

A hand touches his cheek. “Hey Bright? Malcolm. Come on Malcolm, open your eyes. Can you hear me?” Hallucination-JT calls, and another hand shakes him roughly.

It feels so real. So real that Malcolm forces his eyes to open and just squints silently at the hallucination. “Hi,” he mumbles with some difficulty. His tongue is so thick in his mouth and he can barely move it at all. And his lips are so dry that he has to physically peel them apart.

“We’ve been looking for you all over the place. Do you know how hard you are to find?” JT grumbles, but he’s smiling and Malcolm can’t help but smile too.

Then Dani is there too, and a few moments later Gil joins them. “Hey Malcolm, how you feeling?” Gil asks, looking concerned.

Malcolm tries to answer, but he’s so tired that his eyes fall shut of their own accord and he feels himself drifting.

“Oh no you don’t!” Dani calls, and suddenly he’s being lifted half-upright. “Oh fuck, Bright. What the hell did you do to your wrists?”

“I got them,” JT says, and Malcolm suddenly feels someone pulling on the ropes tying his wrists together. He flinches as the ropes are sliced and peeled away from his bloody wrists, but it’s so weak a gesture that he barely moves.

“Here Bright, drink this.” The plastic top of a bottle is pressed to his lips and the first drops of water hit his tongue.

That’s when it hits him how thirsty he is, and all of a sudden he’s fumbling for the bottle to tip it up further, to get as much water as he can. He’s so thirsty, his mouth and throat are so dry that they hurt and he needs it, he _needs_ it _._

 _“_ Hey, slow down!” Gil warns, pushing Malcolm’s hands away. “You can have all the water you want, but you need to take it slowly, ok? I promise, there’s plenty of water for you if you can just be patient.”

Gil. There was something Malcolm is supposed to tell him. Something important, something he’s supposed to remember-.

“Blond guy! Blue eyes, a scar on his-!” he blurts out as everything comes rushing back. Except his voice sounds weak and wobbly in his ears and he hates it.

A hand lands on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “On his nose, we know. We got him, Malcolm. We found him and he told us where he dumped you. You did well, getting this far. You did really well.”

The praise washes over him like a wave of cool air. He’s so tired, so thirsty. All he wants to do is sleep.

“OK Malcolm,” Gil says softly. “You can sleep. Just for a little while. I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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